


One Night

by Lord_Overlord



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 11:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13635171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_Overlord/pseuds/Lord_Overlord
Summary: Basically an AU where it didn’t take, like, 6 minutes total to steal Harley’s laptop





	One Night

**Author's Note:**

> just wanted to try my hand at writing them tbh

“-just consider the kind of situation you keep putting yourself into!”- Alfred’s voice rang through the earpiece, coated with concern, frustration. 

 

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, furrowing his eyebrows as he continued to navigate through the dark allies of Gotham. 

 

“I know, Al- Trust me, I know the risks-“ 

 

“As though spending your  _every day_  with that criminal scum wasn’t enough-”- The butler interrupted, his tone that of a reprimanding father, -“-now you’re spending the nights over, too!?” 

 

“Listen-“ 

 

“Why, Bruce, I’m starting to suspect that you’re simply starting to enjoy your new villainous lifestyle-“

 

“ _Alfred_.” 

 

Bruce finally snapped, his voice cold, commanding, just as he came to a halt in front of the metal doors leading into the old warehouse. The man on the other end of the line reluctantly fell silent, making sure to underline his annoyance with a cutting scoff. 

 

“I  _have_  to get to Harley’s laptop. Night time provides more openings, more opportunities,”- The billionaire explained, calm, rational, focused. It was a mission, one that simply could _not_ go astray. 

 

Alfred remained quiet. 

 

Bruce sighed, closing his eyes. Putting on his gentler voice, he tried again, -“You know I wouldn’t be doing this if there was any other way, Al. I just- It’s just another night, okay?”

 

“A lot can happen in one night,”- Alfred signed in return, suddenly sounding exhausted, -“It is now over a week since you’ve last been home, Bruce. And with each passing day, my worries grow.” 

 

“I know that, and I’m sorry but... We still have a job to do.” 

 

There was a long pause between them, the kind that can only be filled with words unsaid. Bruce put his hand on the metallic handle, lingering for a few moments. 

 

“I’m going in.”

 

He pushed the doors open, marching on into what was fast becoming a familiar criminal life. 

 

“And Al,”- He whispered, swiftly eyeing from side to side to make sure no one was around to hear, -“I’m  _nothing_  like my father. You don’t have to worry about me becoming a criminal any time soon.” 

 

“I know, Bruce.... Just- be careful,”- Alfred murmured, completely defeated.

 

“...Always.” 

 

The next moment the line went dead.

 

As much as it tore Bruce’s heart to argue with what was essentially his only family, he knew he had to focus on his objective. 

 

The laptop. 

 

Harley has been incredibly careful about its location, almost to a paranoid degree. Then again, with the ‘leak’ problem on the top of her priority list, it wasn’t that unnatural. 

 

Even with his and John’s joint efforts, they still couldn’t manage to retrieve it. 

 

So Bruce resorted to the one method he hadn’t tried yet - patience. Just watching and waiting.

He knew the right moment was bound to appear if he spent enough time at the hideout, but with Waller on his tail and the Pact getting more and more agitated by the minute, he was running out of time. 

 

And fast. 

 

He looked around the half empty warehouse, suddenly feeling an onsetting headache. After who knows how many unsuccessful attempts, he was kind of beginning to lose hope. The last thing he wanted to do was blow his cover, but that was soon to be his only solution. 

 

Or maybe- 

 

A loud crash suddenly broke him out of his stupor. 

 

It took Bruce a moment to realize he’s been standing in the middle of the room all this time, simply staring at a wall. Maybe he was more tired than he thought. 

 

It took him yet another moment to realize that the crash came from John’s little hut. 

 

Suddenly concerned, Bruce hurried his way over.

Not bothering to knock or call out, he simply swung the door open - only to reveal a half kneeling, half lying John leaning over a chair. 

 

Shards of a broken bottle decorated the middle of the floor. 

 

“Goshdarndit-“- He mumbled, struggling to get up on his legs, slipping and stumbling over seemingly nothing. 

 

Bruce raised his eyebrows, never seizing to be surprised by anything John does, ever. 

 

“Hey, you alright there, pal?”- He asked, gently closing the door behind him.

 

“Bruce-!”- John all but fell back on the floor, truly startled to see the other man, as though he didn’t just very obviously burst into his tiny house, -“W-Well hello there, buddy! Didn’t, um, didn’t see you- didn’t see you come in there.” 

 

Bruce watched, with a weird mix of worry and amusement, as John continued to flail about, genuinely unable to find proper footing. It was almost like a comedy routine, as though imaginary banana peels were strewn all over the floor underneath him. 

 

“Um, here, let me help you out,”- The billionaire offered, still slightly confused, walking over and lifting the surprisingly weightless man by the armpits. And _immediately_ , the sharp smell of alcohol filled all of Bruce’s senses. 

 

“Gee, thanks there, Brucie,”- John mumbled, practically hanging off of the other man, -“Couldn’t have done that without you!”

 

“John. Are you drunk,”- Bruce asked flatly, sitting the man down on the bed with little effort. 

 

“Oh, you know... Just a little,”- John smiled, trying to wink, ending up looking more like his face had a minor spasm. 

 

Bruce widened his eyes in disbelief. What the  _hell_  was he even thinking, getting drunk at such a critical time!? 

 

“Did you forget that we have  _work_  to do?”- He whispered at John sitting down besides him, annoyance clear in his voice. As though he didn't have enough shit to deal with already - now his only partner in crime was completely useless.

 

It's like the universe was actively trying to sabotage his every plan. 

 

“N-No, no, of course not! Don’t worry, Bruce! This is all part of the plan!” 

 

_“How the hell is you getting smashed part of the plan?”_

 

“You know, the big plan! The Harley plan.” 

 

“What.” 

 

“The Harley-falling-in-love-with-me plan!” 

 

Bruce couldn’t believe his ears. There he was, working his ass off trying to get the laptop, not sleeping for the entirety of this past week, trying his damn hardest, and yet all John could think of- 

 

“She will love me so MUCH she will just HAVE to hand me over the laptop!” 

 

“John, you know that-!“- Bruce began, but immediately stopped himself. 

 

_You know that will never happen._

 

He was annoyed as all hell, sure, but he wasn’t about to hurt John’s feelings by saying that.

Mostly because he wasn’t sure what would happen if he did - that man was as unpredictable as a game of Russian roulette. 

 

“I will just ask her very nicely, and she’ll say-”- John continued, as happy as ever, throwing an arm over Bruce’s shoulders and bringing him closer in, -“-She’ll say, ‘Of course you can have the laptop, darling! I trust you with it, AND my whole life!’”

 

Bruce tried to pull away from his face, but John only held him even closer. For a man of his weight, he sure had quite a grip on him. 

 

This night was going south, fast. 

 

“In fact!”- Still rambling, John moved to get up, stumbling over and nearly falling back down, -“I will go to her _right_ now!”

 

Bruce immediately shot up from the bed himself, placing a hand on John's shoulder, -“N-No, no, no, no- John- Listen, John, that’s a  _bad_  idea, okay?” 

 

This drunkard was _not_  about to compromise everything he worked for. 

 

“‘‘Tis okay, Bruce, I know what I’m-“- John made another attempt at moving forward - Bruce practically threw him back down on the bed, holding a hand out to prevent him from moving. 

 

“No, John, now listen-“ 

 

“What are you doing, Bru-“- John tried to stand up. 

 

“You are  _not_ going to Harley right now-“- Bruce pushed him back down.

 

“But I can get you-“

 

He stood up again.

 

“You are staying  _right_  where you are-“

 

Bruce pushed him back down.

 

“The laptop-“

 

“No, listen-“ 

 

“But I thought you needed-“

 

“You, John!"- Bruce suddenly exclaimed, making sure to maintain eye contact with the other man, -"I need you! I really, _really_ need you right now!”

 

That seemed to pique John’s curiosity enough for him to finally settle down. He leaned back against the wall, tilting his head and squinting his eyes in question, -“What do you mean ‘need me’?” 

 

Crap.

 

What  _did_  he mean!?

 

“Uh, well, you see,”- Bruce began, regret instantly washing over him, -“I’ve been... going through a rough patch lately.” 

 

_Yes, that's right. Spin an elaborate lie._

 

He slowly moved over to the beer crates John kept in the corner of his room, grabbing one from the box, -“Things have been... Um, you could say, kind of complicated for me these days.”

 

Bruce took a moment to carefully think about his next words, gently kicking at a piece of glass that was still on the floor. 

 

“And I was hoping that, uh... _You_ could help me out with some of the things that have been going around in my head,”- He finished up, passing over the beer to John. 

 

The other man accepted it without a word, still looking confused. 

 

“What I mean is,”- Bruce pulled up a chair closer to the bed, so now they were face to face with each other, -“What I really need right now is a friend.”

 

He gave his most charming smile, hoping that this was enough to keep John from doing anything reckless. 

 

And, to Bruce’s own surprise, it _was_. 

 

“Well, why didn’t you just say so, buddy!”- John exclaimed, slapping a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, -“You can trust me with absolutely anything! After all, that’s what friends are for, right?”

 

Bruce didn’t bother to hide the relieved exhale.

 

“That’s right, John.”

 

“Go ahead then, grab a beer!” 

 

Bruce looked back at the crate filled with alcohol that was apparently Bane’s favorite. This fact alone was enough to tell him how strong the stuff really was.

 

“Oh, no thanks. I’m okay-“

 

“C’mon, buddy. I run a therapy circle, I know how it’s done!”

 

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea, John,”- Bruce insisted, trying not to think too hard as to why one would need to be drunk in John's therapy.

 

“O-Oh... Um, okay. Well, that makes matters a bit more... Ah, complex,”- John mumbled, stroking his chin, -“I’ve never run a session with sober people before, you see. Don’t know how that works, really. I’m not that good yet. Maybe I should ask Harley for tips in this? She’s a trained psychiatrist, y’know-“

 

“ _Wait!_ I-“- Bruce instantly grabbed the beer out of John’s hands upon hearing 'Harley".  _No, anything but that._

 

He took a second to look the bottle over. It didn’t have the percentage written anywhere. 

 

Accepting the drink was certainly an incredibly stupid move, and yet... 

 

Rejecting it would more than likely send John running off to Harley. 

 

And that was enough to convince Bruce to take a small sip. 

 

He immediately winced at how it burned through his trachea and stomach. This stuff was  _strong._  

 

It didn’t help that he didn’t eat today, either. 

 

“Aw, Bruce, you gotta do better than that! Take a big swing. It’s just like medicine!”- John encouraged, nodding enthusiastically. 

 

Scrunching up his nose and regretting his life choices, Bruce took a huge gulp. Surprisingly, it almost went down better than the first one. 

 

Maybe he could actually finish the bottle. 

 

“Yeah, it’s an acquired taste. But hey, it does the job in a jiffy!”- John cackled, taking the bottle from Bruce’s hand and taking a big swing himself, -“So, Brucie. Tell me about these ‘troubles’ you’re having.” 

 

The billionaire sighed, realizing he had even more lies to come up with now. Maybe a beer will, in fact, help get through this 'therapy session'. He grabbed a bottle for himself from the crate, and took a few big gulps. 

 

_Just like medicine._

 

“Well, you see...”- He tried scanning through all possible convenient lies, but his mind kept coming back to Harley, the laptop, whatever the hell it was that he was doing now, the ticking time- and goddamn _Waller._

 

“I have a problem with... this colleague, at work,”- The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, -“She’s, uh, been transferred into this city recently.”

 

“Ah, work drama,”- John smiled, nodding, -“Always makes dull, corporate life a bit more colorful, doesn’t it?” 

 

Bruce thought for a moment of how to phrase his thoughts, taking a few more swings. 

 

“Why do you have a problem with this colleague, Bruce?”- John encouraged, leaning in. 

 

”She... She’s questionable. Her attitude is insufferable. And... I’m not sure if I can trust her.” 

 

“Well, trust _is_ incredibly important. Why don’t you get rid of her?” 

 

“Hah. I wish. She likes to think she’s the boss of me. It’s... frustrating.” 

 

“But Bruce, aren’t _you_ the one in charge? Isn’t this your city, so to speak?”- John’s voice was low and hoarse, his tone knowing, reassuring. It was as though he’s heard it all before, but was willing to listen again and again. 

 

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows, -“Yes, and that’s just the thing - she knows it. But she has... She has blackmail on me, I guess. She knows things that she shouldn’t. And because of that, I have to do what she says.” 

 

“Sounds like you’re quite in a pickle, buddy. What are you going to do about it?”

 

“I... I don’t know. Give her what she wants, I guess. In the end, we have the same goal...”- Bruce mumbled, his eyes suddenly meeting with John’s searching gaze, -“...Of making Wayne Enterprises a better company, of course.” 

 

For a moment, he completely forgot what he was even talking about. It was strangely hypnotizing, the way John handled the conversation. More than half of his beer was already gone too. Bruce was clearly not in the right state to be talking about anything Agency related right now. 

 

He needed to change the subject. 

 

“I-It’s not a big deal, really,"- He 'eloquently' backtracked.

 

 _Good job, Wayne._  

 

“I don’t know, Bruce. Blackmail sounds pretty serious,”- John smiled at him, warm, reassuring, -“Doctor Leland always used to emphasize how important it is to keep your work life and your private life separate. Maybe you’ve let them get too intertwined.” 

 

“Private life, huh...”- Bruce sighed, remembering the conversation he had with Alfred mere hours ago. John was wrong - his work and home life were not simply intertwined, they could not exist without one another.

 

”Wish i could say work didn’t affect my private life, but...” 

 

He stared at the floor, at the beer spill, imagining how worried sick Alfred must have been right now. It made him unreasonably angry, at himself, at Al, at Waller. 

 

_Dammit._

 

“But what, Bruce?” 

 

Maybe he _was_ pushing it all too hard. 

 

“I got into an... argument, with my butler. Alfred.” 

 

“Alfred, you say? Why would you argue with your butlers?” 

 

“No, Al’s not like that, he’s more like... More like a father figure to me. He’s family. I’ve been worrying him so much. Lately I feel as though I’m... I’m only letting him down.”

 

“And does... Alfred know about this little secret life of yours?” 

 

“Of course he knows. He’s the one helping me out, he’s the one-“- Bruce blinked once. Then twice. 

 

Then his vision finally stopped swimming and he could concentrate on John’s pale hands grasping around a fully finished bottle of beer.

 

_This little secret life..._

 

“He helps you be a criminal?”- John quirked an eyebrow, and suddenly it made sense to Bruce. 

 

“Well, um- Uh... Not per se, but... I just- I don’t want to disappoint him, you know?” 

 

“Considering your father’s past, I say he would be more than proud!”- John giggled. 

 

Bruce didn’t answer, just looked at his own bottle. It, too, was empty. Without a second thought he reached for another one and passed one over to John. 

 

“How will you fix this misunderstanding, Brucie?”- John purred, lazily blinking at the other man. 

 

_No._

 

No, he gave away too much already. 

 

John had this incredible ability to be a complete idiot one minute, and drag all of Bruce's deepest, darkest secrets out of him the next. It was unsettling.

He didn’t like this psychoanalysis one bit - he should be the one analyzing the other man. 

 

He needed to think of something else, something entirely different. A way to swing the spotlight back to John, take control of the conversation again. 

 

Yes, Bruce needed something to catch his attention, to shift the focus away from himself. 

 

He needed to be stealthy about this. 

 

“Well, I'm sure that will sort itself out,”- He blurted, maybe a bit too eager, -“Let’s talk about... My..."

 

His eyes landed on a framed picture of John and himself. Then on a picture of John and Harley right above.

 

"My- My love life! Yes. Let's talk about my love life that’s... nonexistent.” 

 

He was suddenly feeling all too warm in his leather jacket, taking it off without hesitation. He threw his gloves and hat on the floor as well.

 

John only blinked at him in surprise. 

 

“What a subject change, Bruce!”- He laughed, playfully elbowing him, -“But c’mon, you gotta give me better than this. Love’s not a problem for someone like you, now is it? Just look at you and Catwoman! You can’t call  _that_  nonexistent.” 

 

Bruce thought about it for a moment, as much as he could with the gray haze clouding over his brain. 

 

Catwoman... Selina... The games, the flirting, the back and forth, the signs, the betrayals, the fights, the choices...

 

Eventually, he just shrugged. 

 

“I want something real, you know. She’s just... She's out there to play games. It’s tiring. It’s... It’s not love,”- Bruce finished off the second bottle, and reached for the third. Despite the last remaining sober, rational side of him screaming to stop, he was now more confident than ever that he knew what he was doing. 

 

This was the right direction to head in, he could feel it. 

 

“Really, Bruce, as I said before - you _must_ be blind. I would  _kill_  to have that kind of energy between Harley and me!” 

 

_There._

 

That was his opening. 

 

The perfect opportunity to switch the conversation back to John’s only obsession. 

 

“Yes! You and Harley! Let’s- Let’s uh- Let’s talk about that!”- Bruce said with the subtlety of an elephant in a bouncy castle, -“Why in the _world_  are you guys still not together!?” 

 

John took the bait all too easily. 

 

Sighing, he lowered his eyes to the ground, looking like a kicked puppy, -“I don’t even know, Bruce. After our talk, I... I did everything you told me to! I’ve been myself, I tried to start conversations, be there for her, but...”

 

“It’s just not working!”- He suddenly shouted, throwing his half empty bottle across the room, smashing it into a million pieces. It took Bruce a tad too long to realize just how close it flew to his head - an inch to the left would’ve left him with a black eye. 

 

Wow, he really _was_ drunk. 

 

“H-Hey- Hey, John. Calm down,”- He reached out to the other man, shifting over to the bed to sit besides him and hug him by the shoulders, -“No need to get violent- I’m here for you, okay?” 

 

Bruce was now more worried about restraining John to make sure he doesn’t smash this whole place up (or worse), but he was hoping the other man would see this as a reassuring gesture. 

 

John lifted his eyes up to look at Bruce, and the billionaire could practically feel the heartbreak in them. _They were just so..._

 

It was almost scary how much emotion he was able to see in them alone. 

 

“I just... I just want to be _good_ for her, Bruce.” 

 

Maybe it was the alcohol speaking, but damn if it didn’t make Bruce angry. 

 

Sure this guy was completely antisocial and seriously creepy, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a good heart. He got meddled up in the wrong crowd, a crowd that continued to use him for their own selfish needs. 

 

And Harley - she was the _worst_ of them all, playing with John as though he wasn’t even human. 

 

Bruce felt his heart rate accelerate, his blood pumping. He was ridiculously angry. 

 

That wasn’t good. 

 

“Bruce?”- John asked, tilting his head. Suddenly Bruce realized how close they were. How ridiculously _warm_ it was. 

 

He quickly stood up from the bed, wobbling over to grab another beer. 

 

“Okay, John. I’ll teach you,”- He proclaimed, taking a swing of the alcohol yet again. It was around 15, maybe 20 percent, Bruce decided. _Give or take._

 

“T-Teach me what,”- John blinked, watching as Bruce slowly rounded the room, deep in thought. 

 

“I will... teach you how to get Harley. You  _will_ get her, John,”- With a solid resolve, Bruce finally plopped down on the bed besides his friend, looking him deep in the eyes, -“She  _will_ fall in love with you, okay? One way or another.” 

 

John simply nodded, a smile forming on his lips, and a fire lighting in his eyes.

 

Bruce had no idea where all of this determination came from all of a sudden. 

 

He knew from the very beginning that Harley couldn’t possibly fall in love with anyone like John, but... After seeing that defeated expression in his eyes, Bruce couldn’t let this go. 

 

John was going to be loved - he was going to prove all three of them wrong, _dammit._

 

“Okay, let’s try this again.” 

 

“Try what again.”

 

“Role play, obviously. I’ll be Harley, you'll be... You.”

 

Bruce straightened out his back, clearing his throat. He blinked a couple of times, smiling gently at John, trying his best to put on a believable Harley impression in his drunken state. 

 

“Hey there, _Puddin’_. So ya wanted to talk to me, didja?”- Bruce drawled, imitating Harley’s pitch and accent. His eyebrows furrowed as John began to snicker, realizing he needed to try harder to fit into the role, -“Make it quick, okay? Before I _blow ya head off_.” 

 

And in the next moment John fell into a full on hysterical laughter.

 

“Wh-What!? What am I doing wrong?”- Bruce stammered reverting back to himself. He thought he was doing pretty well, so why was he-!? 

 

“N-No, no, sorry, Bruce!”- John mumbled through giggles, wiping at the tears streaming from his eyes, -“You were perfect! Incredible, even! I’m just- I’m blown away, really. Are you secretly taking acting classes or something?”

 

Bruce would be lying if he said he wasn’t flattered. He didn’t know he had such a talent for imitating people, especially murderers in clown makeup. He hoped John wasn’t just saying it. 

 

“Ahem,”- He coughed, trying to regain his composure. He was burning up, and he wasn’t sure how much of it was the alcohol and how much was the compliment, -“Let’s get back on track, shall we?” 

 

“Right, right, sorry,”- John mumbled, also coughing a few times. And in just a second, his expression was serious again, and he was looking at Bruce with eyes full of adoration and love and- 

 

“Harley.”

 

 _Right_. He was... looking at Harley. 

 

“I didn’t mean to distract you from your work, I just... I wanted to tell you how much you mean to me,”- John continued, inching in closer. 

 

Bruce involuntarily moved closer too, remembering to stay in character at the last moment. 

 

“ _Mean_ to you?”- He rolled his eyes, his tone dripping with sarcasm, -“What is this, puddin’, a love confession?” 

 

“Um, well... Y-Yes, actually,”- John’s voice was trembling, and Bruce could swear he could even see a shake in his hands. He really was taking this seriously, -“I, uh... I’m really, truly in love with you... Harley. Deeply, incredibly, mind-blowingly in love. My heart beats to the rhythm of your name. I just... I want us to be together, you know? I could make you... I could make you the happiest person alive.” 

 

Bruce took a sharp inhale, unable to tear away his gaze from John’s piercing green eyes. Everything he was saying was... absolutely _terrible._

 

He knew exactly what the ‘Harley’ in him would say.

 

 _‘Don’t be an idiot, John. You know you’re beneath me. This will never happen. Now stop wasting my time and do something useful.’_  

 

And it made Bruce even angrier. 

 

He was so mad at this hypothetical Harley that he was one step away from walking out that door and confronting her himself. 

 

Of course, he knew better, but- 

 

How can a human being not even feel a drop of compassion for those sad, broken green eyes!? 

 

“Uh, ‘Harley’?”- John whispered, moving in even closer. 

 

Bruce exhaled, shaking his head, -“No, no, _no,_ John. This won’t do at all.” 

 

“Harley, I-“

 

“No, not Harley. Bruce,”- Bruce told him, grabbing him by the shoulders, -“I’m going to- I’m going to be you this time.” 

 

“Wha-“

 

“I’m going to be _you_ , and _you’re_ going to be Harley, okay!?”- He all but screamed, his own emotions overwhelming. It was suddenly all too much.

 

 _It was too damn warm._  

 

“Oh, yeah, okay! That will work,”- John agreed without a second thought, taking only a moment to adjust to his new persona, -“Ahem! John, go clean out the bathrooms! They’re filthy!” 

 

Bruce’s eyes widened at this, his blood pressure skyrocketing. At this rate he was going to pop a blood vessel, simply from all this anger swimming around in his chest. 

 

“No, John! Just- No,”- He yelled, suddenly pinning John down to the bed, his fingertips digging into the other man’s wrists, -“You can’t let her boss you around like that! Stand up for yourself a little,  _dammit!”_

 

He wanted to punch through a wall, smash a window, go one on one with Bane again - _anything_ to get rid of this pulsating, all consuming rage. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and...

 

John giggled. 

 

Bruce snapped his eyes wide open again, only to see the other man lying underneath him, quiet, a wide smile on his face, and a glint in his eyes the likes of which Bruce has never seen before. 

 

What was he... What was he even angry about..?

 

Bruce took a moment to study the other man - the locks of green hair falling on his forehead; the smooth, frighteningly white skin standing out against the grey bed sheets; the wide, genuine smile that he was giving to Bruce; and those eyes, staring at him with emotion Bruce had never seen before, glinting at him, studying him back, conveying feelings he didn’t even know existed. 

 

And suddenly, his pulse was racing all too quickly, his breathing became shallow, his face and body burning up. He didn’t feel stable on his own two hands, leaning over John like that - and yet he couldn’t find it in him to move. 

 

He let out a shaky exhale, wondering just how long they’ve been lying like this. 

 

“Bruce, are you okay? You look awfully red,”- John all but whispered, rotating his wrists under Bruce’s grip. 

 

“Um. Uh. Yeah. I’m fine,”- Bruce mumbled back, feeling farthest from fine. He had no idea what came over him, but suddenly, it was so much harder to breathe, -“What... What were we doing, again?”

 

“Honestly, I can’t even remember,”- John giggled again, and Bruce felt a shiver run up his spine. 

 

He finally sat back up, moving away from the other man. His vision was swimming, and he suddenly felt a lot like throwing up. This was weird. Incredibly weird. 

 

John sat up too, taking a moment to just study Bruce. 

 

Suddenly, he shifted closer, making Bruce audibly inhale yet again. 

 

“What are you-“- He tried asking, suddenly feeling a cold hand cover his own. John stared intently into his eyes, almost as though searching for _something._ Bruce had no idea what it was, but he was hoping he wouldn’t find it. 

 

“Hey, Bruce,”- John whispered, their faces suddenly way closer than Bruce remembered, -“Can I try something?”

 

Bruce swallowed hard, giving an uncertain nod, overwhelmed by his own senses. He wasn’t sure what was happening, or what he was doing. He was drunk out of his mind and so unbelievably  _warm_. 

 

Without waiting for John to make his next move, he suddenly leaned in closer, bringing their lips within an inch of one another. He could feel John’s breath against his skin now, his stomach tightening with his every heartbeat. 

 

“Do you want to kiss me, John?”- He whispered, sure of the answer, yet unable to stop himself from asking.  _What am I..._

 

He heard the other man audibly swallow, nodding just a bit, before releasing a shaky, -“Yeah.” 

 

Bruce did not hesitate anymore, bringing their lips together, closing his eyes from an overwhelming avalanche of feelings. 

 

The alcohol, the warmth of John’s lips, the pain of his nails digging deep into Bruce’s hand, the smoothness of his face that Bruce was now caressing, the feeling of his hair, and his smell, and his touch, and his _kiss_ - 

 

It took only a few moment before Bruce slipped the tongue, and John more than eagerly opened his mouth, very obviously inexperienced, but he was trying, and learning fast. 

 

Soon he was leaning in, dropping John down, and they were lying on the bed, with Bruce on top, their legs intertwined, his own pulse so loud he could barely hear anything else that was going on. 

 

John's hands slipped under his shirt, running up against his back, so cold, yet somehow burning at the same time. And then Bruce moved down to kiss at the other's neck, gently bitting down and pressing his tongue against a beating vein. He heard John hiss and moan, felt him pull at his hair, and then he was back at kissing his lips again, with a desperation he didn't know he was capable of. 

Bruce felt a tugging sensation in his stomach, began to slowly move his hips against John's crotch, eliciting a particularly sharp inhale. It was at that moment that he took another deep breath, finally pulling away, allowing himself to calm down, if only for a second. 

His hands could barely hold him up, and he was panting like he just ran a marathon. His whole body was shaking. 

 

John looked completely dazed, his eyes half closed, staring up at Bruce with the same weird glint that he had before, his pupils diluted, his chest heaving. 

 

“So- Hah, so that’s what it’s like, huh,”- He whispered, giggling and panting, and only then the reality of what just happened dawned on Bruce. 

 

_Oh, god._

 

“What did... Why did...”- The billionaire mumbled, more to himself than anyone else. He felt as though his heart was about to explode out of his chest. This was not normal. 

 

“It- It’s okay, Bruce! We were... We were just roleplaying, right?”- John smiled up at him, and Bruce could swear he saw that glint in his eyes disappear, -“You were me, and I was Harley, and you, uh, you showed me how to handle things when it came down to it.” 

 

Bruce blinked a couple of times, trying to wrap his head around it.

 

“Roleplaying. Right,”- He rubbed his temple, suddenly overcome by a throbbing headache, -“You were just... Harley.” 

 

“Yeah... Yeah, thanks for that, buddy.” 

 

They took another few moments to catch their breathes. Bruce tried his best to stand up, ultimately failing and falling back down on the bed, this time next to John.

 

The latter turned to face him, running a cold hand through his sweaty hair. _Why was it so damn warm..._

 

“Um... Hey, Bruce?”- He began, and Bruce simply blinked up at the other man. His head was filled with lead, and his body felt like it was bound in place. He could only move his eyes, as he watched John lean back in and place a soft, unsure kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

 

He found the strength to move his hands to hold the other man in place, tilt his head at a better angle, slipping in his tongue again, continuing to sloppily kiss him, running his fingers up and down John's back. 

John's chest pressed firmly into Bruce's as the man practically lied down on top of him, his weight as though a scorching, hot blanket. 

 

It was a shorter kiss this time, and it left them both even more confused than ever. 

 

“Roleplaying?”- John asked, and Bruce was almost certain he was just talking to himself.

 

He nodded in return, nevertheless, -“Sure.” 

 

“Yes... Maybe? No, no, I don’t think so.” 

 

“Not roleplaying?” 

 

“I don’t know anymore, Bruce.” 

 

Bruce’s eyes felt too heavy to keep them open just then. He simply held John close, nuzzling his face into the other man’s hair. 

 

“It’s okay, John,”- He whispered. Or maybe thought. Or maybe dreamed. He was no longer sure at this point, -“You don’t need Harley. You... You don’t need her. I will... I’ll show you... how to be good.” 

 

He didn’t know what happened after, or if anything happened at all. Darkness enveloped him fully, and all that was left was the overwhelming warmth. 

 

And the quiet sound of shallow breathing.

 

•••••

 

Bruce woke up with a splitting headache. 

 

Everything, from his head to his feet felt heavy, unmovable. 

 

He was in John’s bed, some of his clothes thrown on the floor, alone, and _freezing_. He didn’t remember how he got there. 

 

He didn’t remember anything at all, really. 

 

He just had a dry mouth, an upset stomach, and a feeling that something was missing. 

 

John wasn’t anywhere to be found. 

 

With the remainder of his strength, Bruce sat up on the bed, looking over the room, when...

 

_The laptop._

 

 

It was just sitting there, on John's chair, ready for Bruce to find next to a card saying 'Got this for you while you were sleeping, buddy. Enjoy'.

 

He blinked at it. Then reached over to grab it.

 

It was real.  _Actually_ real.

 

How the  _hell_ did John manage to do this on his own!?

 

Trying to remember anything at all about last night took way too much damn effort, and his headache wasn't going away any time soon. With the laptop in his hands, getting out of the warehouse was number one on his priority list.

 

Number two was getting rid of this hangover. 

 

He peeked through the door, making sure no one was around. It seemed to be early morning.  _Thank god_.

 

Bruce practically ran outside, taking a deep breath of the cold air as soon as he was out.

 

Sure, Alfred was going to be  _pissed_ at him for getting drunk, but the job was finally done - and he was not about to question his luck.  

 

He still couldn’t remember any of yesterday, no matter how hard he tried. 

 

But now that John actually got him the laptop, the details of the night could wait.

 

He would remember if anything important happened, anyway. 


End file.
